


A Gift For Yule

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Slash, Christmas Fluff, Cute Kids, Fluff, M/M, Mystery, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel helps a young lady with a puzzling question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift For Yule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> The request was for 'Glorfindel solves a mystery'. 'Mystery' was sort of taken with a pinch of salt, I must admit. While I'm quite good with a classic murder mystery story, I didn't think I could work that kind of plot into a G/PG rating, so I wrote this piece of fluff instead.

Winter was slowly creeping into the valley once again, bringing with it the usual snows, icicles, cold winds and general hustle as preparations were begun for the Yule celebrations. Last night a snowstorm had blown through, the first serious storm of the winter, leaving behind a fresh coat of unbroken snow that lay thick on the ground.

Unable to even contemplate any sort practise drills in this weather, Glorfindel had instead set the warriors under his command the task of clearing the pathways of snow and spreading rock salt – a task most of them had found just as repugnant as the idea of running a full lap of the valley, which was the option he had suggested to those unwilling to participate. In the end he had agreed to give the team who finished their assigned section first an exemption from the same duty the next time it snowed, and the pace of path-clearing had picked up considerably afterward.

He himself had participated, moving from group to group to check on progress and make sure no one was slacking off. There was still a faint rosy tint to the sky when the first triumphant team came to tell him they were finished – and, after passing his inspection, he noted them down to be exempt while they merrily made their way back to the barracks. By the time mid-morning came around the last few teams were finishing and the paths were relatively safe to walk on again, though only a scant few were braving the outdoors today. Still, as Glorfindel explained to one of his surlier charges, spreading the salt now would lessen the chance of ice later. It was all in the spirit of community.

Despite his gloves his fingers still felt like icicles when he was finally free to return inside, and he looked forward to finding a fire while he knocked the snow from his boots. Then he looked up on hearing a cheerful voice call his name. “And where were you two while we were slaving with the snow outside?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the twins as he took off his cloak and shook snow off it.

“Talking to Ada about our upcoming diplomatic visit,” Elladan said, sighing. “He was in a bit of a mood about something this morning, though I don’t know what.”

“He does tend to get himself a little worked up around this time of year,” Elrohir said. “Maybe we should have made Naneth suggest that Thranduil visited later in the year?”

“He specifically wanted to come for Midwinter,” Elladan said, shrugging with one shoulder.

“Strange that he has not yet arrived,” Glorfindel said, pulling off his gloves.

“No, we had a message that he was delayed in the mountains. One of those birds that carry little scrolls, which luckily got here before the storm.” Elrohir looked out at the white gardens. “This first snowfall won’t have helped, either.”

“Ada was suggesting that someone ride out to meet him, but I think that can be delayed for the moment,” Elladan said, nodding.

“I, for one, would be glad to stay in the valley,” Glorfindel said with a smile, gathering all his outdoor gear into the crook of one arm. “And I would also be glad to find a fire and some warm food, so I shall bid you farewell, if you are staying here.”

The twins smiled at him and nodded, continuing to talk and observe the garden outside while he walked off.

A stop at the kitchens gave him a quick snack of bread with butter and an apple, and a chat with Turwen the cook about their supplies for the winter. She seemed unconcerned, which Glorfindel decided to take as a good sign. She complained in her usual good-natured way about all the cooking she would have to do for the Yule celebrations, and amused Glorfindel with a story about the kitchen cats before bidding him a good day.

After eating, he decided a hot bath would be nice before setting to work on the weapons inventory that he still had outstanding. On passing the library, though, he stopped to duck inside.

The atmosphere around the writing desks in the main room was decidedly tense. Lindir was stiffly flicking through the pages of a huge book, pointedly not looking in the direction of Melpomaen, who was pressing his quill so hard to the page where he was taking notes Glorfindel feared he might break through the parchment. Both favoured him with a quick glance and a nod before looking back to their respective tasks, still pointedly avoiding looking at one another.

Raising his eyebrows, Glorfindel made his way over to the door that was propped open nearby. Leaning against the doorframe, he said in an undertone, “The temperature is almost as frosty as it is outside between those two.”

Erestor made a noise of disgust without looking up from his parchment. “They have been behaving like children all morning. I have had to tell them to be silent if they cannot be civil.”

“Apparently Elrond was also in a mood this morning, according to his sons.”

“I would be quite content not to hear from Elrond for the rest of the day. Sometimes I think he forgets he is not the eldest and wisest elf in any given room.”

Glorfindel came forward and perched on the edge of Erestor’s desk, and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Very few besides you and I _are_ older.”

Erestor sighed. “I suppose. Though the question of wiseness is still in contention.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “It is not often you annoy each other so. What on earth did he do to you?”

“Nothing, really,” Erestor said, laying down his quill. “He was panicking about Thranduil’s party getting stuck in the mountains. What’s worse is I wouldn’t have been so annoyed with him if I hadn’t had to listen to those two squabbling for most of the morning beforehand.”

“He just left?”

“Indeed. I am surprised you didn’t run into him on your way in.”

“I saw neither hide nor hair of him.” Glorfindel grinned. “I suppose he has gone to lick his wounds in his study. Perhaps your wish to not see him all day will be granted.”

“It would certainly allow me to get on with things in peace.” Erestor looked up at him and frowned slightly. “You look very red in the face this morning.”

“I have been out clearing snow since first light. My warriors were not amused.”

Erestor smiled. “I can imagine. Though I’m glad you took care of that.”

“If I can give you anything less to worry about,” Glorfindel smiled back, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now, I am going for a hot bath. I will see you at dinner.” He slipped from the desk and made his way to the door. “Roast leek in garlic sauce tonight, according to Turwen.”

“It sounds divine,” Erestor said, gracing him with a smile before he turned to leave.

/

Elrond’s worries proved unfounded; Thranduil and his party made it safely to Imladris without too much discomfort on their part, and the preparations for Yule rapidly began to increase in pace. The volume of snow that fell began to increase as well, and the competition to be the first team with a clear section intensified.

Glorfindel saw less of Erestor as the season approached its climax, but he didn’t feel the separation too keenly. It had ever been thus; he just accepted it as one of the norms of the Midwinter season. Luckily for him, his duties were decreased during the winter months, though supervising path clearing and encouraging and sometimes bullying his men into running laps in the frigid morning air certainly felt like more than enough hard work. The warriors from the woodland realm would often join those from Imladris on their morning runs, and would perform them just as grudgingly. _At least it gives them something to bond over_ , Glorfindel often thought to himself.

Otherwise, with Elrond and Celebrían often busy entertaining Thranduil and his party, and Erestor doing Eru-knew-what in various organisational capacities, Glorfindel often found himself bereft of his usual companions. This was alleviated somewhat by the arrival of a certain young lady one noontime in the week before Yule.

Arwen crept in so quietly he only noticed her when she tugged on the hem of his tunic, which made him jump. “You sneak around like a little mouse,” he laughed, lifting her up onto his lap.

“You were daydreaming,” Arwen said, a reproving tone to her voice.

“I was doing nothing of the sort, my lady.”

Arwen looked at him with an unimpressed expression that managed to remind him of both Elrond and Celebrían at once. “Ada told me you were working and not to disturb you, but everyone seems to be working these days, and I have a question.”

“Then I will, of course, endeavour to answer it,” Glorfindel smiled.

“Good,” Arwen said, sounding self-satisfied. “Well. Ada asked me what I would like for Yule, and I know what it is, only I do not know what it is called.”

“What a conundrum,” Glorfindel shifted her a little so his leg wouldn’t fall asleep under her weight. “Perhaps you might describe this thing to me?”

“It’s a bird,” Arwen said. “A big bird. And it’s blue, and it has a long tail that’s green.”

“Big, blue, long green tail,” Glorfindel repeated. Arwen smiled and nodded. “Never heard of it,” he said, and Arwen’s smile dropped. “Maybe you can draw it?” Glorfindel suggested hastily. Arwen had recently developed quite a passion for drawing.

She brightened at the idea. “Yes, yes!” She shimmied down off his lap and then turned, holding out her hands expectantly. He looked around on his desk for a blank sheet of parchment and a quill and ink pot, and handed them to her.

“Be careful on the carpet,” he cautioned her as she set up her drawing materials. She seemed to pay no attention to him, so he just hoped the ink wouldn’t spill and went back to his work.

Arwen was very careful and deliberate in her drawing, which apparently was a good sign, according to Celebrían. What she lacked in skill she certainly made up for in determination, and within a half hour she was tugging on Glorfindel’s tunic again, holding the picture up for him to see.

He took it from her and held it up to the light, making a show of examining it. The drawing did seem avian in nature, but he still had no more idea what kind of bird she was talking about. Arwen seemed to sense this, and she said in a pitifully disappointed voice, “You still don’t know?”

“All my fault, not any fault of your drawing,” he said, laying it carefully down on his desk. “In fact, I think we should show this particular one to your mother when she returns from her meeting, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Arwen said, still looking upset.

Glorfindel stood, reached down and picked her up. She wound her little arms around his neck and looked at him questioningly. “The only place to find out about this,” he held up the picture, “is the library, wouldn’t you think?”

“Ada said everyone in the library is very busy,” Arwen said, looking doubtful.

“We shall only disturb them a little,” Glorfindel assured her, already making his way toward the door.

When they entered the library he set her down, and she walked with him over to the writing desks, where he dropped the paper in front of Melpomaen, who jumped so violently he almost knocked over his ink pot. “Would you have any idea what animal might be depicted here, Mel?” Glorfindel asked him.

He warily picked up the piece of parchment and studied the drawing. “Um,” he said, looking up at Glorfindel rather nervously.

“Let me see,” Lindir, who had just appeared from behind a row of shelves, leaned over Melpomaen’s shoulder to get a closer look. “It sort of looks like a chicken,” he said doubtfully.

“I _know_ what a chicken looks like, and that is _not_ a chicken,” Arwen said, her brow furrowed in a fierce scowl. “Chickens aren’t blue with long green tails.”

“Blue with a long green…” Melpomaen looked at the picture again. “Wait, is it supposed to be a peacock?”

“A pea-what?” Glorfindel said dubiously.

“It’s a bird that comes from somewhere south-east of Harad,” Melpomaen explained. “There’s a book with a picture in it around here- somewhere-”

“ _A Guide to the Birds of Arda_ , in the natural sciences section, third row of shelving, fourth shelf from the bottom.” Erestor sounded slightly exasperated as he rattled the information off. As Melpomaen mumbled something and rushed off to find the book, Erestor came out from the doorway of his office and gave Glorfindel a look. “Disrupting my dear underlings here, are you?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I am playing knight in shining armour to our dear lady,” Glorfindel said, grinning. Erestor’s sour expression might fool Melpomaen and Lindir, but he could tell he was secretly amused. Arwen giggled.

“How dashing,” Erestor said, his face completely straight.

“My lady is looking into a Yule gift, apparently.”

“A peacock might rank on the list of excessive and unobtainable gifts to receive for Yule, I fear.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You may be right.”

At that moment Melpomaen returned with the book, already flicking through the pages. “Here it is,” he said, laying the book down on the table and pointing. Erestor picked Arwen up and set her on the chair so she could see the picture.

The little girl’s face lit up, and she poked one finger onto the page. “Yes, this,” she said, and looked up at Glorfindel expectantly.

He stared back at her for a few seconds before asking, “Yes?”

“Well, I would like one. Please.”

Glorfindel laughed and patted her head. “They come from far away and are rather hard to procure, dear one. Perhaps it can be an idea for next Yule?” Arwen looked disappointed, so he added, “I happen to know your parents have a very special Yule gift for you anyway, this year.”

“Very special?” Arwen asked, her attention instantly diverted. “What is it?”

“Now, if I told you that, where would be the fun in giving the gift?”

Arwen huffed, and then slipped off the chair to the floor. “No one ever tells me what they have gotten me for Yule,” she groused.

“It will stay that way, little one,” Glorfindel laughed.

As Arwen began to make her way determinedly toward the exit, Glorfindel shot a grateful smile at Erestor, who only shook his head affectionately. “Make sure she gets back to her nurse without incident,” Erestor told him, making shooing motions at him. Glorfindel laughed, then left the denizens of the library to their peace.

/

Years later, he stood in the gardens on a glorious sunny day, watching Arwen throw seed to her little flock of birds. “And Ada said they wouldn’t do well in this climate,” she scoffed, grinning. “Look at them! They’re very happy.”

“They might not be so happy when winter comes,” he said, watching the birds peck around Arwen’s bare feet.

“They can live in the stables; it will warm enough for them in there.” She threw another handful of seed in a wide arc, smiling. “It will take more than a little snow to kill them off!”

Glorfindel chuckled. “As you say, my lady.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I looked up a bit of information on peacocks, just to get some idea of the plausibility of bringing them into a climate similar to Rivendell's (though I was fairly sure you could, having seen them all around Corsham during my Primary school years). Turns out they originate from India, but will thrive in English climates so long as they have somewhere warm to spend the winter. It still being a fairly medieval-esque world, and Harad not usually being on friendly terms with Gondor and other northern countries, I imagined it might be quite hard to get one's hands on a peacock, thus why Glorfindel has never seen them (he's probably heard of them, just forgotten xD). Also, if Harad is supposed to be analogous with the Middle East, wherever peacocks come from must be further east/south and thus even further and harder to get hold of. But when Arwen's determined....;)


End file.
